Black Hair
by Superpsych96
Summary: I am Egil Black Hair of Solitude. The Black Hairs were the royal family of Skyrim before the great war between the Empire and Aldmeri Dominion. My father, High King Aethrog Black Hair, fell in the last battle before I was of age to assume the throne. After many assassination attempts on my young life, I was removed from Skyrim, but now I return for what's mine.
1. Helgen to Dragonsreach

_I am Egil Black Hair of Solitude. The Black Hairs were the royal family of Skyrim before the great war between the Empire and Aldmeri Dominion. My father, High King Aethrog Black Hair, fell in the last battle before I was of age to assume the throne. After many assassination attempts on my young life, I was removed from Skyrim for safekeeping and the throne was usurped. Now, I return home to Skyrim to claim the throne that was my father's and is to be mine, now that High King Torygg has been killed. _

Egil's return to Skyrim was not what he had hoped it would be. He didn't expect to get picked up on the border with a troop of Stormcloaks, the rebels trying to win Skyrim's independence from the Empire. He didn't expect to share a wagon with Jarl Ulfric himself, the jarl that shouted the late King Torygg to pieces in a duel. Ulfric did it for his own run at the throne. That made him an enemy.

Egil didn't expect to have his royal face on a bloody chopping block, some soldier's life liquid wetting his namesake midnight black beard and shoulder length hair. He certainly didn't expect a dragon of all things to stop the proceedings.

His escape from Helgen, the walled village where his ascent to Sovngarde nearly happened, was the first thing that succeeded that he had planned. Now he stands in Riverwood in armor of rich brown leather squares held together with brass rivets that a dead man had worn only a day ago.

Having just parted ways with Hadvar, an Imperial officer Egil had left Helgen with, Egil was now left to his own devices. He rather liked the armor he wore, but didn't care as much for his other gear, that being heavier and of Imperial design. He would make his own. Egil had learned smithing while apprenticing in Cyrodiil, making him more than capable of crafting his own armor.

"This is your shop, yes?" Egil asked the bear of a blacksmith that made himself busy with the sharpening of a sword.

"It is. I am Alvor. Hadvar, the soldier you arrived with is my nephew." The veteran blacksmith, Alvor, stood to his full height and offered his greeting, grasping forearms with the shorter warrior. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to use your forge, good man," Egil said, his green eyes flicking from workstation to workstation.

"Do you know anything about it, man?" Alvor asked, crossing his arms and leaning against a wooden shelf behind him.

"A little." Egil walked to the open pit forge and looked at Alvor expectantly. "May I?" Egil was persistent.

"Go ahead, but you will buy what you break." Egil simply scoffed at Alvor's answer. "Will you need supplies?"

"Yes, but I have coin."

"Very well," Alvor nodded and watched Egil get to work. Under the eye of Alvor, Egil expertly made for himself a sword of strong iron, and boots and bracers of dark tanned leather with iron studs.

Once the time consuming projects were done, the runes of the House of Black Hair set on the blade, Egil paid the man the required Septims for the material and use of the forge. "I will see you again, I'm sure," Egil nodded, taking his leave and making his way down the loosely cobbled main Street.

The last building in the quant village was the tavern and inn, the Sleeping Giant. The inside looked like any inn of Skyrim; the central fireplace, the scattered outlying tables and bard who had too many drinks but still played dutifully.

Egil watched this particular bard, a young blond man without a whisker. He couldn't be more than twenty winters and appeared to lack the body of a warrior or hard laborer. The job seemed to suit him. His blue tunic looked awfully nice for someone of such low standard. Not a hair of his golden mane that ran down to the base of his neck was out of place.

"Can I get you a drink, something to eat, perhaps?" A blonde woman with a stern face asked Egil, a hand on her hip. She didn't appear to appreciate a loiterer.

"An ale would be fine. And what meat have you?" Egil asked, never taking his eyes off the boy old enough to be a man.

"Venison is well in season and is popular here."

"That sounds fine." Egil waited patiently for his order.

After he had eaten, he ordered another ale. Then a third. On the third ale, the boy cleared the distance across the inn and sat across from the warrior.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the boy addressed the man. He didn't come off as shy or intimidating, the latter most likely being impossible.

"What's your name, boy?" Egil asked none too politely.

"Sven Darnson." The boy, Sven, looked over Egil from head to toe, noticing the gold ring on his right finger, the indigo, almost purplish tint of his long sleeved wool tunic. "Who are you?"

"My name is Egil Aethrogson. I'm an adventurer. Freshly returned home." Egil looked at Sven's pale hands. He noticed some calluses. "You work somewhere else?"

"The mill, too."

"That's honorable. Ever held a sword, Sven Darson?"

"No sir." Egil thought as much.

"I can tell by how you drink that you want away from this place, no?" Egil's face remained like stone as he raised his mug and drank.

"I… I do wish to be away," Sven confessed.

"You know how to use an axe. That's good. Can you kill?"

"I've hunted, but that's it." Egil nodded to Sven's reply.

"If you want to become something, Sven Darson, you will be ready to leave at dawn." Egil flicked away Sven with a motion of his wrist. "Lady, I wish to rent a room for the night."

The next morning, Egil woke with the sun and donned his armor and set his sword belt around his waist. He picked up his shield, his shield being smaller than he liked, but made of good hardwood and a strong central iron boss. He set it on his back, the thick leather strap crossing his chest to keep it in place.

Upon leaving the Sleeping Giant, Egil saw Sven ready to travel, wearing hide boots, a blue wool tunic and burgundy wool vest, grey linen trousers below. Not exactly what Egil would call the clothes of an adventurer. He did have his axe at his side along with a bow and a quiver of arrows situated on his back.

"Where are we off to?" Sven asked, right on Egil's heels as he walked.

"I spoke to the owner of the general goods store here,Valerius. They've been robbed and we're going to get the loot back to them," Egil informed him.

"So we're vigilantes? Aren't there guards for this sort of thing?" Sven challenged.

"If you don't like it, Sven Darson, stay here. I just want the reward. We're after a simple golden claw."

With the golden claw in hand, the two entered Riverwood together.

"That went better than expected, all things considered," Sven told Egil. Egil just chuckled and kept his way down the cobbled street.

"There is still much for me to teach you, Sven Darson." The smile on Sven's young face fell after Egil's words. "But you handled yourself in the Barrow well. You are a loyal and trustworthy friend. I will ask you to continue traveling with me."

"I would be honored to, Egil. I will be your man," Sven replied proudly but not like a child. Sven readjusted the padded armor he wore under a thick green tunic. Egil insisted that he wear the dead bandit's armor. "Where are we off to now?"

"To the Riverwood Trader to deliver the claw. After that, to Whiterun."

"What is in Whiterun for us?"

Egil rolled his eyes at all the questions. "We are going to see the Jarl, Sven," he explained as he opened the door to the Trader. It was early in the morning, but Egil had promised to bring the claw back with haste.

"Did you… did you get the claw back?" Camilla Valerius asked, her dainty hands pressed together at the palms.

"Where is your brother?" Egil asked as he stood in front of a candle, moving his hand over the flame and back.

"He… he went to bed. I can go get him if," Egil stopped the girl with a raise of his calloused hand.

"Take the claw. Do not wake your brother. I have no words for him. Do you have the gold we discussed?"

"Is gold all you care about?" Sven questioned the warrior. "Surely we can call this a simple favor."

"Do you have the coin to get us to Solitude?" Egil asked with a deep chuckle, his emerald green eyes daring Sven to respond. The look on Sven's boyish face at the mention of going to Solitude was priceless to Egil. "The gold, lady."

"Yes. It's here. Behind the counter." Camilla retrieved the pouch and handed it to Egil.

"Thank you," Egil said with a nod of his ebony hair covered head. "We will be on our way."

"Sven, will you be at the Sleeping Giant tonight?" Camilla asked with more than a touch of hope.

"We'll be staying there tonight, yes," Sven replied with a smile. Egil patiently waited, leaning against the doorway of the Trader, waiting for Sven to finish up. Egil knew he had business, but he wouldn't be cruel to Sven. He wasn't in a hurry at the moment, knowing that they were to spend the night.

"I will see you there, then," Camilla smiled and went about locking up the store.

Egil sat alone at the back corner table, his eyes watching everything that moved. His shield and sword leaned against the table within easy reach but allowing him to relax.

Sven stood by the bar with a lyr in hand, singing about the coming of the Dragonborn. Egil had to laugh at that. He didn't believe in prophecies or things said to come. He believed in only what had happened, and what was in front of him.

There sat Camilla with tankard in hand, watching Sven with moon eyes. The pair were certainly smitten with each other.

"Please allow me to sing a song that I have been working on recently," Sven said with a smile before looking to Egil.

Egil rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, going to the door. He breathed deeply when the night air touched him and blew a strand of midnight black hair into his face. He took the strand and made a quick braid on the left side so it wouldn't happen again.

He removed a pinch of tobacco from a belt pouch and pressed it into a long pipe. He was about to light it off the lantern on the railing next to him, but stopped because he felt watched. Emerald eyes dotted all around the night landscape but didn't register anything.

His hand reached behind his back to grab the hilt of his iron dagger. "Who watches me?" Egil asked the darkness. There was no reply.

The door behind him opened, and Egil spun around, pressing the body against the wall with the knife blade against the newcomer's throat.

"Egil? What are you doing?" Sven asked, worry in his eyes.

"Someone is following me, Sven. Would you know anything about that?" Egil questioned, keeping the blade where it was.

"Not at all. I swear," Sven said, completely under control. "Who would be following you?"

"I have an idea," was all Egil said. He wouldn't say anymore. "Go back inside, Sven. Enjoy your company," he smirked, then smiled when Sven openly blushed.

After a day's journey, the pair came to the gates of Whiterun. The road leading in and from the city bustled with travelers and traders. The armed patrols of Whiterun guards didn't escape Egil's eyes, either. With the civil war, it was understandable, especially because Jarl Balgruuf stayed neutral in the affair.

"Stop," a guard ordered a Khajiit that tried to enter the city. "Khajiit can sell wares outside the city, but not inside the gates. The city venue is for local vendors and residents only."

Egil made note of the new law. Skyrim had changed much since his boyhood exodus.

"And you, what business do you two have entering Whiterun so heavily armed?" the guard asked the pair of travelers.

"These arms were necessary to escape Helgen." Egil waited to see recognition on the guard's face. There was none. "The fortified village the dragon destroyed?" There was the recognition.

"If you were at Helgen, the Jarl will want to see you," the guard said and backed away, allowing Sven and Egil to pass.

The two passed through the great city unhindered, having no problem getting to Dragonsreach.

Getting into Dragonsreach was again not an issue. Egil quickly found out that claiming to know about the dragon was a guaranteed way to get where he wanted to be while keeping his arms.

Once inside the great hall, he was happy to actually know about the dragon. Escaping from here would be more than difficult, and there would be a body count, most likely including Sven. The Dark Elf coming towards them was proof enough for Egil's thoughts.

"What business do you have in Dragonsreach with such arms?" the deep voiced woman asked, her red eyes looking over Egil and Sven from head to toe.

"I come from Helgen. I figured Jarl Balgruuf would like to hear about the dragon attack that happened there," Egil told her confidently. "If he does not wish to hear of it, I will go."

"You know of the attack? Come. Jarl Balgruuf will certainly want to speak with you, Nord." The Dark Elf motioned Egil forward, closer to the wooden throne where Balgruuf the Greater sat.

The Jarl watched Egil and Sven from the corner of his eye as he continued talking with his steward, Avinichi. Once done, he gave Egil his full attention. "Speak," Balgruuf said plainly. "Tell me of Helgen."

"Helgen has been taken as an Imperial outpost, at least long enough to try to kill Ulfric Stormcloak, Egil began. "I was unfortunately picked up by Imperials on my way home to Skyrim. I happened to be near a battle between the Empire and Ulfric's rebellion. I attempted to avoid it, but was taken in by Imperial skirmishers."

"Get to the dragon," Balgruuf interrupted.

"You will hear my story if you wish to know of this dragon," Egil said with authority, conscious of his blood. "The Empire in Skyrim has possibly labeled me a criminal and I may have need of your protection. I am no outlaw. I am a Nord trying to return to his home and to what is rightfully mine by blood," Egil continued his monologue. "There is truthfully a dragon, and it raised Helgen to the ground in front of Tulius and Ulfric. Both were powerless against it."

"What are we supposed to do against a dragon?" Balgruuf asked his court, hoping against hope that someone would have an answer.

"Well we kill it, of course. It lives. It has a physical body. It can be killed," Egil answered without hesitation. "In truth, it is no simple task."

"My court wizard, Faringar, may have more to say on this. Come, stranger. I would like for you to speak with him." Balgruuf raised himself from his throne, and everyone save Egil bowed to him. Balgruuf was not Egil's jarl.

Egil followed the bear of a jarl, with Sven close on his heels. "What can your wizard offer us?" Egil asked. It was a tone of curiosity and not of distrust.

"I have been researching dragons since the first rumors of Helgen reached Whiterun. You are the first survivor I have met, and that makes you valuable," Faringar answered from under his hood. "There is, however, a certain tablet that would further my research. Someone would have to retrieve it for me from Bleakfalls Barrow, however."

Egil sighed and rolled his eyes. Sven had to try not to chuckle. "We were just there but two days ago," Egil said in disappointment. "Send a man, any man, really. My man, Sven, and I cleaned that crypt of bandits, spiders, and draugr alike. A certain nasty draugr in the main chamber had a stone tablet on a shrine in front of him," Egil explained.

"You have done much, then," Farengar said with cheer.

"I will send men immediately," Balgruuf told his associates. "So there is nothing to be done about the dragon at this moment? Are we simply to wait until it finds us? Are there other dragons?"

"I don't think we have the tools to fight it ourselves. At least not yet," Egil said, his hand on his bearded chin.

"You may be right. What is simple steel and iron against a dragon?" Farengar asked. "We need Companion steel. We need Skyforge."

"You know that Eorlund Gray-Mane only fashions true Skyforge steel for the Companions," Balgruuf countered.

"Then we need the Companions," Egil said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "We should speak with them."

"I hope our coffers have the coin to pay for a dragon killing. But if anyone can kill a dragon, it is the Companions," Balgruuf sighed. "Well my friend, are you up to the task of inquiring to the Companions?" Balgruuf asked Egil with hope.

"I do not see why not. The worst they will do is laugh."


	2. The Dragon

_I have returned to Skyrim, but under different circumstances than I could have imagined. I returned during the middle of a civil war that I knew about, but had no plans in getting involved with so early. There is also a dragon that has complicated my first days in Skyrim. The trouble with this dragon has brought me to Whiterun, where my new friend, Sven, and I now work with the jarl to defeat it. We now head to Jorrvaskr, home of the fabled Companions, in hopes they will aid us against the dragon._

Sven and I make our way down from the Cloud District and to the second level of Whiterun. I am not disappointed by my first visit to the city. It is a bustling hub of activity and trade, being all manners of people and species together in the market places. Whiterun is the center and in a few ways, the heart of Skyrim, and not just geographically. Whiterun would be quite the asset to either side of the civil war, but from what I am told, Balgruuf is on neither side.

Jorrvaskr stands proudly by itself, the rest of the city built around it and the legendary Skyforge. Up the steps Sven and I go, until we come face to face with the large wooden double doors of the ancient mead hall.

"Do we knock, or do we just go in?" Sven asks me, obviously nervous. He is from Riverwood. No doubt he has heard stories of the warriors who dwell within and what they are capable of. Perhaps he has even seen some of the warriors held to be just less than minor gods.

"I suggest we just go in. The Companions are no one to be timid around. The last thing we want is for them to believe we are weak," I say as I push open the door. As Sven and I walk in, an older man with only one seeing working grey eye and the other being void of color, a scar running from jaw to forehead, stares us down while the others watch a fist fight. He slowly rises from his chair and walks to us.

"You're in our hall," the seasoned warrior says flatly.

"We are, sir," I confirm what he knows, but doing so with respect and no sign of fear for him.

"The inn is down the hill."

"We know this, too. We have come to speak to the Companions, a member of the circle is preferred," I tell the man with crossed arms and a suspicious glance. At hearing my last declaration, another Companion joins us. He wears the same armor of the wolf with a greatsword on his back. He is a bear of a man and a head taller than I, almost two heads taller than Sven.

"I am Skjor. This is Farkas," the aging man informs us. "We are both members of the Circle. Is there a job you need carried out?" Skjor asks, finally getting to our business.

"I assume you've heard of the dragon, I began simply.

"The entire hold has. What of it?"

"We come from the jarl. He asked us to get your aid in fighting this dragon."

"Why would he send you and not some guard or Irileth?" The large one, Farkas, asks.

"Because I was at Helgen. I watched the beast raze the village to the ground. Apparently not getting killed makes me an expert," I say, shrugging my shoulders. "Tulius and Ulfric were both there if you feel like calling me a liar."

"Farkas, fetch Aela," Skjor orders the bear. Skjor turns back to me. "Aela is our expert hunter. If she has anything to say on this dragon business, it will surely be her."

We wait patiently, sizing each other up but saying nothing. Sven has moved off to watch the fights. I let him be when a woman in Companion armor with blazing red hair comes to me and Skjor.

"Skjor?" the woman asks, paying no attention to me. I am okay with that, because I was not prepared for a Companion to be capable of such beauty yet obvious prowess. Her silver eyes, the eyes of the wolf, catch me off guard even when they are not on me.

"This man comes from Balgruuf. He claims to have survived Helgen," Skjor fills in Aela the Companion.

"You saw the dragon?" Aela asks, finally turning to me, her eyes display a of mix of wonder and disbelief.

"I did. It was the largest creature I have seen. The black scales were the size of my hand and the gusts from its wings had the force of a maelstrom. The fires scorched everything it touched and instantly killed men."

"This is some beast," Aela says, turning to Skjor. "This report is more inclusive than all others we have had."

"Balgruuf wants our help should it ever attack Whiterun," Skjor explains to Aela why he summoned her.

"Ah," Aela says flatly, her eyes back to me. "Do you know how to kill a dragon?"

"I understand our simple steel will not be enough. Our best chance is Skyforge steel, but only the Companions are allowed to wield it."

"This is all true," Aela concurs. "If the Companions did not aid in the fight, surely it would be to the destruction of the city, including Jorrvaskr," the red lady points out. "Come. Let us go see Balgruuf."

"Lady Aela," Balgruuf's booming voice echoes off the halls of Dragonsreach. "I did not expect the Companions to send one such as yourself," Balgruuf greeted, raising himself from his throne.

"My jarl," Aela bows to the man and he bows back in recognition of her status as well. "Your associate here has informed Jorrvaskr that Whiterun is preparing to defend against the dragon."

"That is correct. Egil has done much to help Whiterun." Balgruuf nods to me in thanks and I acknowledge him with a deeper nod, as is fitting. "The army of Whiterun is well trained and brave, Lady Aela, but we do not have weapons suited to dragon fighting."

"Egil, is it?" Aela asks me and I nod. "Egil has told me that is the understanding. I have to agree. I will personally speak to Harbinger Kodlak," she addressed us both.

"My jarl!" the Dark Elf from earlier, Irileth, I believe her name was, calls as she sprints in the room, nearly knocking poor Sven off his feet. "My jarl, the dragon has been spotted off in the distance by the Western watchtower. It made contact, but pulled off and went over the plains. It may come back," Irileth warned.

"It seems the time has already come," Balgruuf laments and rubs his forehead, his head hanging low and his shoulders slouching. "Lady Aela, I beg you to speak with Harbinger Kodlak with most haste."

"My jarl," Aela bows and turns to me. "Egil, you are with me." At Aela's call, I bow to Balgruuf and leave him to his plans with Irileth and Farengar. As Aela, Sven, and I leave the keep, Aela tells me, "you survived the dragon. The gods did not spare you for no reason. And there is something about you… a destiny. I feel it."

"How many people can say they survived a dragon, let alone cheat it twice?"

"Perhaps that is to be your greatness." Aela's eyes bore into me, telling me with no words that she is dead serious and that I would be wise not to rebuke. I did not expect a warrior of her class, one who could die at any day, to take an unforeseeable fate, and one so subject to change, so seriously.

"Prepare yourself for battle, and then we will speak to Kodlak?" I suggest, but leave plenty of room for her to order me. In Whiterun, I am still nothing. Being involved in the destruction of this dragon should hopefully make me a figure in this city.

"Find Skjor. Tell him to gather the Companions and meet us on the steps. By then I will have spoken to Kodlak. I will meet you when I am prepared for battle." I nodded and together we headed back into Jorrvaskr.

Skjor, Farkas, and the other Circle Companion, Vilkas, stand together with me on the front steps. The door opens once more and Aela steps out of Jorrvaskr; three stripes of blue war paint streaked across her face, a shield on her back, a dagger on her hip, and a bow in hand. "Let us go to the watchtower," she tells us. The whelps will bring Eorlund's weapons along for the guards and Irileth. We mustn't waste time."

Together we walk with purpose through the streets and to the stables. The Circle mounts, but I have no horse. "Up here, Egil," Aela says with no emotion. "Quickly now." I do as told and mount the horse behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She takes off at a gallop and we speed down the cobbled path away from Whiterun and to the tower. We see the black smoke rising, and none of us can doubt that this was caused by the wrath of the dragon.

We dismount among the rubble and survey the damage closely. None of us know what we are looking for. We are not there for long when we hear the sound of more hooves coming down the cobble. We see the horse banners of Whiterun and then Irileth with her contingent, the minor Companions wearing their various armors with the red patches adorned with the golden icon of Wuuthrad on their right breasts. Irileth's force converged on us, along with the surviving guards. I am shocked that any survived. The gods must favor these men as well.

"Look out! Here it comes!" a guard shouts and points to the skies. We all look in the direction the guard is pointing in, and then we hear an ear shattering roar. If it was closer and we were not prepared for it, it would have been enough to unnerve any warrior.

"Quick, arm yourselves with Skyforge!" Skjor barks as the lesser Companions handed out swords, axes, spears, and bundles of arrows.

"Archers, do not clump to together! Spread out so the beast has to try to pick us off!" Aela directs with the authority of a seasoned legate.

"Shields, with me!" I call, raising my Skyforge steal high after getting it from a Redguard Companion. Skjor and Sven both come to my side and with a few of the lesser Companions and Whiterun soldiers; we form a tight shield wall and wait for the dragon. Irileth, Vilkas, and Farkas take the Whiterun warriors with two-handed weapons off to the side. By diverging our forces, the dragon will not know who to focus on. If the archers and bring it down, surely we can wrench it of life with dozens of blades.

Finally, the dragon closes in with another deafening roar. Aela calls for the archers to fire at will, and begins the fight with a well placed arrow of her own, the Skyforge steel tip piercing the dragon's chest. Flurries of arrows scream through the air, some going far off their marks but some striking true.

The dragon flies over our heads and lays down awe inspiring blankets of fire, trying to catch as many archers as it can, trying to stop the prickling arrows prodding its flesh and tearing its wings. After a time and more than a few casualties, the dragon is forced to land, unable to fly without Skyforge steel digging into its scales.

"Now is the moment to be men! Talos guide us!" I rouse the shield wall's spirits and lead the charge towards the dragon's maw. Farkas, Vilkas, and Irileth are leading a flanking charge to the dragon's sides. If we were not enough, the archers pick targets on the mighty beast above our heads. Aela and the archers on the tower rain down from the sky. The dragon is in complete disarray and trying to calculate how best to defend itself from all these angles when it is set upon by dozens of Companions and Whiterun soldiers alike.

Scales, blood, and dragon flesh are carved from the serpent as it tries to lash out at us with its great tail, claws, and gnashing maw. There are two many of us, and one dragon. I see my chance to assert myself. I stick my toe in the dragon's exposed side, and with Skyforge sword and dagger, climb atop the dragon. The dragon feels me on its back and tries to dislodge me, but it is unable. With all of my gathered strength and the legendary steal, I thrust my blade through the great skull, down to hilt. The blade is truly home, and with what sounds like a squeal, the beast falls limp beneath me.

There are no cries of victory, no cheers from us that remain. I fall to my haunches while still sitting on the dragon's long neck. I wipe my face with bloodied leather gauntlets and sigh deeply. I look up to the tower and see the flaming hair of Aela. She stands proudly yet solemnly with bow still in hand. All around the dragon are crushed, burned, bitten in half corpses. The dragon lay bested, but at a heavy price.

Irileth climbs the dragon and sits next to me. "The jarl will want to know of this victory," Irileth tells me, her red eyes full to the brim, tears threatening to fall at any point. I understand. As a housecarl, Irileth knows what it is to lead and lose soldiers, but not so many, and not to one foe.

"I will tell him, Housecarl. See to your men. See that the arms barrowed to us from the Companions are returned." I have no authority to give her orders, but she does not argue. Instead she nods and grasps my shoulder with a shaking hand before she gets up and takes her leave.

I dismount the dead dragon by walking down the snout and to the cobbled road in front of me. There, the Circle of the Companions waits for me. "This belongs to you," I say, holding out the dagger and sword that served me so well.

"I think you should hold onto those, soldier," Skjor said, pushing my hands back towards me. "I believe it is time you come to Jorrvaskr and meet the Harbinger, Kodlak. You have already proven that you are worthy of the Companions."

The Companions are the greatest warriors in Skyrim, and with them, through them; I could surely accomplish great things. But the Companions are not the end of my journey. Whiterun is not the end of my journey. I owe it to these warriors who helped me save Whiterun, they deserve the truth.

"Companions, I would be honored to join your ranks, but I fear I have far more ahead of me that I must do. I will meet with Harbinger Kodlak. He is a great man and can offer me needed council, but I doubt I will be joining your ranks." I stop mid thought, and my blood seems to stop as well.

"Egil?" Aela asks, a twinge of worry in her voice as she reaches out to touch my arm. "What is it?"

"Sven. Where is Sven?" I ask, my anxiety rising tenfold. "Sven!" I call out, worry for my friend swallowing my mind. I brought him from home. I opened him to these dangers. Sven is a boy I tore from his soft, cozy life and threw into literal dragon fire.

"I am here, Egil," Sven answers, approaching with a noticeable limp in his step. The red iron blood trickles down a sizable gash in his leg. He bares now a scar, a reminder of the greatest feat any one in Skyrim can claim.

"Come, Sven," I say with a smile, happy my young friend survived the fight. "We must get your wound looked to and inform Balgruuf of all that has happened. Then, we must visit Jorrvaskr."

The guards open the doors to Dragonsreach for Sven, Aela, and I. We walk through the great hall with the stares of everyone on us. Our return can only mean that the dragon is no more. As soon as Balgruuf's eyes find us, he knows it is so.

"Egil Aethrogson and Lady Aela, you return!" Balgruuf could not hide the excitement at seeing us. Sven and I were head to toe in dragon gore, and Aela had only three arrows remaining. "The dragon, is it…."

"Yes, my jarl, the dragon is slain," Aela answers for us. "It was the mightiest beast I have laid eyes on."

"There were more than a few casualties, my lord," I inform him "Irileth lives, and so does the Circles, but the Companions and Whiterun have suffered."

"Their sacrifices will not be forgotten, Egil Aethrogson. Nor shall your role in this affair," Balgruuf says as he sits in his chair again. I turn to Aela to see if she follows him, and she only smiles at me. "Lady Aela, I cannot give you any reward, as you are a Companion. But Egil, I am more than happy to award you with the title of Thane of Whiterun. You are a hero, Egil Aethrogson, and the hold shall know it." I can say I was not expecting to be made a Thane, a hero, and should the occasion arrive, a captain of Whiterun's army.

"Thank you, my jarl." I bow deeply and stand back upright. "I still have much work to do, Jarl Balgruuf."

"I am sure you do. A man of your capabilities does not stay idle long. As a Thane, though, it is my honor to appoint you a housecarl who will follow you on your travels. Her name is Lydia, and she shall serve you well, Egil Aethrogson. Go, and may the Divines smile upon you as they have so far." Balgruuf turns to Aela who still stands with me. "Lady Aela, please give my regards and respects to the Companions." Aela and Balgruuf bow to each other, finally ending the formalities.

Aela turns to take her leave and tugs me along by the arm, Sven and I both following her dutifully. "You still need to speak to Harbinger Kodlak. About what, I am not entirely sure, but Skjor was adamant about it, and surely the Harbinger will want to speak to you, who had such a role in the dragon's fate."

"Very well," I agree without a fight. What harm can meeting the Harbinger of the Companions bring me? Before we can leave the hall, a woman in steel armor with long brown hair in a ponytail approaches us.

"Greetings to you, Thane," the warrior woman greets me. "Lady Aela," the woman bows to Aela. "I am Lydia of Whiterun. I have been instructed by Jarl Balgruuf that I am to be your housecarl, my Thane."

I look at Sven and Aela, and the pair shrug. I cannot turn down the services of a housecarl without offering her serious insult. "Lydia, what background have you?" If she is not as capable as she appears, she will not last long in my service, and I wish not to be responsible for the loss of her life.

"I am a lieutenant in the jarl's army. I have considerable tracking skills, and while not being nearly as good as Lady Aela, I do have some proficiency with a bow. You would be hard pressed to find a woman in Whiterun better than I with sword and shield outside of Jorrvaskr," Lydia shares with us.

"I see no reason not to bring her along, Egil," Sven offers.

"Perhaps you are right, friend. Lydia, your road with us will not be without challenges, but I believe you will be most helpful and welcomed with us, I tell her, and the warrior smiles at me. "Are you ready to leave?"

"I am, my Thane. Where are we going?" Lydia asks, obviously eager to depart.

"Lady Aela requests we join her to Jorrvaskr, as the Harbinger wishes to speak with us. As to what, we do not know. We can't deny a request from the Harbinger of the Companions, though." With those words, the four of us leave the Cloud District and head to the center of Whiterun and to Jorrvaskr.

Once in the great hall, Aela asks Lydia and Sven to stay at the great table around the center fire while we go below to living quarters. Aela leads me down the stairs, through a set of double doors and down a long hall. At the end of the hall, I can hear the voices of Vilkas and who I can only guess is the great Harbinger himself, Kodlak. They discuss "the call of the blood," but I am entirely unsure of what they mean.

"Ah, Aela. You've brought the newcomer, the one who helped slay the dragon," the old man says, running a hand through his great graying beard.

"I have, Harbinger," Aela says, bowing low with a hand over her chest. "Shall I leave you?" she asks dutifully but Kodlak slowly shakes his head.

"There is no reason for you to go, Aela, nor you, Vilkas," the man says, speaking to the great warriors like they are his own children. There is certainly an undeniable charismatic air around him. He could lead great armies to do terrible things if he wished.

"What is it you would speak to me about, Harbinger?"

"I must ask for your help," Kodlak says. "We lost more than a few Companions in fighting the dragon. The sacrifice of our brothers and sisters was necessary to safeguard the city. But the Companions are at war."

"My Harbinger, I mean no disrespect in interrupting, but should we tell this stranger of the Companions' troubles?" Vilkas asks. I am not hurt by this, but made more curious.

"If he is to help us, Vilkas, he should know what we are asking of him. The Companions have been locked in a shadow war for some time now against an order known as the Silver Hand. The Silver Hand wishes the downfall of the Companions because of what the members of the Circle are."

"We are werewolves," Aela tells me shamelessly, and I do my best to seem unmoved by the fact that I have literally walked into a wolf den. I brought Sven and Lydia here as well, like sheep. I slowly move my hand to my sword, but I am not foolish enough to make a move.

"Despite the selfless acts we do day in and day out, such as help slay dragons, their bias would see us all killed like rabid dogs," Vilkas says with venom in his tone.

"You wish me to become a Companion, to help replace those lost and help with your war?" I regurgitate the Harbinger's words to make sure I understand.

"That is correct, warrior," Kodlak confirms. Gaining favor with the Companions could only help in my overall quest to regain the High Throne. But do I have the time to lock myself in such a war? And how skillful the Silver Hand must be to gridlock with the might of the Companions. I look at the faces of Kodlak, Vilkas, and Aela. It is clear to me that Sven, Lydia, and I will help this most noble order of warriors with this.


	3. Dustman's Cairn

_I, along with Sven, the Companions, and a host of Whiterun soldiers have slain the dragon that threatened Whiterun. I have been named Thane of the city and have been assigned a most formidable shield maiden named Lydia as my personal housecarl. Together with she and Sven, we have been recruited to join the Companions by Harbinger Kodlak himself. My friends and I find ourselves at war with a shadow cult called the Silver Hand._

My friends and I stand at the back of the training grounds behind Jorrvaskr, about to be sworn in by Kodlak and the Circle. We are made to understand that we are to defend the helpless, to always be noble and honorable, and to above all, stand with our shield-siblings for their safety, love, and honor to the Companions. We swear this oath with full hearts, Sven and I having all ready bled with these warriors. Lydia swears blindly, following me in all things as my housecarl.

"Now that you three are Companions, you will be given all the necessary gear, bearing our sigil, and will be recognized as being with us," Kodlak tells us, and the three of us stand silent. "Aela will bring you to our master smith, Eorlund Gray-Mane. Master Eorlund will see to your outfitting."

"Yes, Harbinger," I state my understanding and wait for Aela, our sponsoring member of the Circle, to lead the way. We follow the fire-haired maiden up a set of stone steps next to Jorrvaskr, where the most impressive forge I have laid eyes upon stands, worked by an aging bear of a man.

"Eorlund," Aela addresses the man with friendly familiarity, "I bring you three new recruits."

The master smith, Eorlund, turns to us and assesses us with cold, calculating eyes. He approaches us and asks to take our chest pieces. He paints the golden icon of Wuuthrad, the battleaxe of Ysgramor, onto the chests of our armors, and our weapons and shields are replaced with Skyforge works. Other than the branding, we are given no new armor as we are only Whelps, and not full members of the Circle.

"Now that you three have been materially inducted, we must go to Kodlak for assignment," Aela tells us and leads us from the Skyforge to the training yard. There, we find Kodlak giving pointers to other Whelps you must not currently have assignments.

"Ah, good!" Kodlak bellows upon seeing us with fresh Wuuthrads adorning our chests. "Are you three prepared for your first mission as Companions?"

"We are, Harbinger," I reply for our group. Only yesterday did we defeat a dragon, and today we begin our time as Companions. Where this road will lead us, I have not the slightest idea.

"Lady Aela will accompany you as your senior Shield Sister. Every Companion mission must be lead by a member of the Circle. As your sponsor, Lady Aela will be your mentor," Kodlak informs us. "You four will go retrieve a fragment of Wuuthrad believed by some scholars of Ysgramor to be in a tomb nearby. This is the tomb of one of Ysgramor's captains. Be respectful and also on your guard. If we know of it, so do the Silver Hand, I am sure. Talos guide you, Companions."

With our mission firmly in mind, we three new bloods follow Aela out of the walls of Whiterun and down to the stables. We four take mounts that collectively belong to the Companions. Together we take a calm pace down the cobbled roads of Whiterun Hold, passing the open, tall grassed plains and the rich wildlife that makes it the hunting capital of Skyrim.

Dusk falls upon us and Aela decides we shall make camp. We dismount some yards off of the main road. We each get a tent that we arrange in a square so we can see what is behind the other, should someone or something try to attack us.

Aela quickly lights a fire and we make our evening provisions. "You three handled a full day in the saddle well," Aela praises us. "Farkas's first Whelps did not do so well," she says with light laughter. "He complained to me for three days about how much they complained."

"I am happy that we are agreeable to you," I chuckle in response. "Lydia, as a Whiterun veteran, I am not surprised you are a skilled rider. Sven, on the other hand, I did not expect you to take to horse so well."

Sven slowly moves, resting his head against the saddle as he lies down. "I do not take well to the saddle. My ass hurts terribly, but nobody likes a moaner," Sven tells us and we can't help but to laugh at the poor young man's expense.

For a good part of the evening, we sit around the fire in comfortable silence and occasionally speak. Around midnight, however, Aela stops mid sentence and I see her entire body freeze. She has the face of the storied huntress she is. I slowly reach for my weapon, as do the others.

Aela slowly rises to her haunches and grabs her bow. She motions for us to stay put as she slinks off into the tall grass around us.

"Form up on me," I order Sven and Lydia, who are armed and have their shields, though we all are wearing only our gambesons for armor. We are not dressed for a proper fight, and with Aela's reaction, I am sure that is what we have. The three of us are back-to-back-to-back with the light of the fire, moon, and stars to illuminate any attackers. We wait patiently, and then finally I see the glint of firelight caught by metal. "Make ready," I growl, and I see the first man.

Our ambushers make themselves known as they rush our little camp from all sides. We hold our tight little formation as they throw themselves at us. The first man comes at me with a high strike. I easily block with my shield and send his sword offline, allowing me to stab him in his belly. The second man charges me with a battleaxe. He has momentum from the sheer weight of it, but can do little to control it. He swings and I easily side step it. I bash him with my shield, knocking him to the ground where I slit his throat.

"Come on!" I urge the third man who has a dagger and a sword. "Come on!" I urge him again. I know better than to leave my shield-siblings like I know he wants me to. I do not have to give my ground because a hand within a wolf gauntlet grabs his jaw, and another wraps around his chin. Aela snaps his neck and lets him crumple to the ground. I can tell by the arrows missing from her quiver that she did not leave us to die.

Aela and I are now free to help Sven and Lydia. Sven, being the least experienced of us with a blade, is handling himself but still could use aid. Aela takes care of the Redguard with two war axes with an arrow to the knee. Sven quickly finishes the Nord who was taken off guard by Aela's arrow. Lydia waits for Sven to finish his opponents, and our camp is free of activity.

"Was this the Silver Hand?" Sven asks as he looks at the fresh carcasses.

"See all the silver swords? They knew we'd be on our way to the Cairn. They were hoping to meet us here. I think we should keep moving," Aela suggests, packing up her part of camp.

"Are we still in danger here?" Sven asks.

"I doubt we are here," I reply. "There are surely more Silver Hand at the Cairn with possibly more on the way." I sigh as I tie my bedroll to the back of my horse's saddle. "I know we're tired, but we need to get the fragments first."

"Are we at least close?" Sven asks, obviously tired.

"I've heard tales of the Cairn," Lydia speaks up. "I've been passed it, but never ventured too close. We are but a few hours' ride. We should be there by dawn break."

"She is right," Aela confirms. "We can sleep all we want once we have the fragments." After a short time, we were again in the saddle and crossing the plains, making sure to avoid the open road.

Lydia's guess was not far off as our party crests the top of the barrow mound. We make our way down the smart flight of stone spiral steps down into the exterior chamber. The double doors that lead into the chamber proper are solid, heavy iron doors to deter animals or lone grave robbers. Sven and I work together to push the tomb doors open. Once Lydia and Aela are inside, Sven and I enter, the doors closing behind us.

The interior of the barrow is absolute darkness. We draw weapons, unsure of what to do in the lack of light. The only thing I can see are the glowing, silver eyes of our leader, Aela. It isn't long before she lights a torch and the room we are in is graced with a warm glow.

"I do not think the Silver Hand have made it in yet," Aela says as she lights another torch and hands it to Sven. "Let us get in and out fairly quickly. The Hand may not yet be here, but we must watch for the crypt guardians, the Draugr."

"Oh, we are familiar with the Draugr," Sven says in open distaste. "Let us get this over with."

"Agreed," Aela says, leading the way, torch in one hand and dagger in the left. We move at a decent speed, but are careful to not wake the Draugr. When the hand comes through, they may not be as careful as we.

The cairn is long, but quiet. The ancient Nords were masterful in their construction of chambers such as these. With the exception of we four, there is no life in the chambers. The Draugr see to the death of any animal or robber that would be foolish enough to enter. Traps lay all about, which Aela is more than suited to disarm.

Finally, we enter the main hall with little issues. The main hall is enormous, Aela and Sven's torches doing little to light more than a few feet in front of our faces. We move at the slowest pace we have traveled since working together, but with good reason. We can just make out the silhouettes of sarcophaguses lining both walls. There must be thirty Draugr in this chamber.

After what feels like hours of tiptoeing and trying not to walk into anything or wake anything up, we reach the offering table that stands in front of an ancient Nord word wall, inscribed with the ancient tongue of the dragon. We find the shard of Wuuthrad and look to make our exit when we hear voices and see the orange flicker of torch light. By the amount of voices and light, the Silver Hand have found us, and are in some number.

"These damned fools are going to wake the Draugr," Aela growls, placing her torch on a nearby wall sconce and grabbing her bow. Lydia draws hers as well. The two climb onto the sarcophagus of the captain the cairn was built for. As soon as the first Hand makes himself visible, he is met with an arrow to the chest from Aela. Lydia drops the second while Aela draws again.

Sven and I move to the front of the sarcophagus with weapons drawn and shields raised, ready to defend our Shield Sisters. The Silver Hand rush in, screaming with a fury. They make it half way through the main crypt when the sarcophaguses begin to crack open and the Draugr begin to wake. The Silver Hand stop their charge and form a shield circle, a schiltron, and allow the Draugr to throw themselves against it. Aela and Lydia continue to shoot at any Draugr that approach our party, and Sven and I cut down any that get close enough to be within reach of our blades.

The Draugr do not last long, but have done considerable damage to the Silver Hand. The Silver Hand look confident as they stride towards us, but we see the walking reanimated corpses at company strength marching in from the hallway. Their stench is hidden by those already slain, and by the time they are heard, the Silver Hand are already set upon from behind. Most of the remaining Silver Hand fight with the Draugr while a few Silver Hand assail us. We strike them down and make our way out with Aela at the head, leaving the Silver Hand to their fate at the hands of the Draugr.

With the blessing of Talos we four make it out of Dustman's Cairn and back out to the fresh air of Whiterun's plains. "Come on," Aela urges as we follow her back to where we hid the horses. "Just a little further and we can rest," she promises.

"I am so tired," Sven mumbles as he stumbles along, trying to keep up.

"I know, brother, but we must continue but a bit further," I cheer on my Shield Brother as we reach the horses. I help my exhausted friend into his saddle and then get up into my own. We go only out of horizon's view of the cairn and dismount. Sven nearly falls out of the saddle. Lydia is visibly tired, but in considerably better shape than Sven.

"Now… we can rest," Aela tells us joyfully as she runs her fingers over the shard of metal in her hand. "A job most well done, Companions. We shall sleep under the tired leaves our bones and we will return to the safety of Jorrvaskr, much to the glory of us all."


End file.
